


A Springtime Storm

by D_f_m22



Series: Human AU [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 11:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: An off-shoot from my human AU.A lot of fluff as Freya becomes excited to have a storm named after her...





	A Springtime Storm

Missy double clicked on the Internet Explorer logo, letting out a sigh of frustration as the curser froze and the screen began to fade. An annoying message popped up, informing her that Internet Explorer was not responding. 

“Bloody hell,” Missy hissed, whacking her wrist against the edge of the laptop. “You really are a useless piece of junk. I have two emails to send, that’s all I’m asking of you. It’s really not unreasonable…In fact, it’s your fucking job!” 

“Mummy!” Freya gasped, walking up behind her. The nine-year old looked at her mother disapprovingly. She had somehow managed to perfect a glare that was as terrifying as Missy’s own one and made Missy wonder how many undergraduates she had glared into submission in her old life. “You shouldn’t use that kind of language. It’s very rude, you’re going to have to put £2 in the swear jar. At this rate, we’re going to save for our holiday in no time!” 

Lifting her handbag up, Missy scoured through it as she leafed through the stack of unopened bank statements and tissues to retrieve her purse. She silently vowed to dedicate some time in the upcoming week to sort out her bag that had turned into something of an interdimensional void of rubbish when she wasn’t looking. 

“It’s £1, little Missy,” she said as she held up a shiny new coin between her thumb and forefinger. “£1 per naughty word, it’s in our contract.”

Missy nodded in the direction of the fridge where a handwritten contract took centre place. The paper was written in a mixture of purple and yellow ink- the respective favourite colours of Missy and Freya- and had two signatures at the bottom of the page. It was held in place by a three fridge magnets- one with images of Glasgow sent down by Gordon, another of Niagara Falls a gift from Frances sent back by the student during her postgraduate studies in Canada and finally a personalised one with a photo of Missy and Freya on a beach in Devon last summer- it had been a gift from Freya to her mother on her birthday the previous November; both had been delighted to celebrate her birthday together properly for the first time ever. Freya followed her mother’s line of vision to the contract in question, rolling her eyes as if she was ever so tired of having to explain everything to her silly old mum. Missy watched as Freya retrieved the stool that had been specially purchased to help her reach the higher shelves. Her daughter had always been destined to be small in stature- after all, neither her nor Harry had ever excelled in the height department (something that had bruised Harry’s already fragile ego). Missy’s lips curled into a smile as she watched Freya determinedly reach for the glass jar that contained coins and notes. There was a white sticky label with the word’s “Mummy’s Swear Jar,” written clearly in sharpie ink. Freya held the jar tightly and jumped down with a sprightly energy that only a child of that age could. The coins rattled together, echoing around the kitchen.  
“You swore twice, mummy,” Freya said sternly as she placed the jar in the middle of the table. “You said bloody and then you said the ‘F’ word.” 

Missy rolled her eyes. “Bloody is not a swear word. Do you know how many times I’ve called uncle Basil a bloody idiot? The majority of the times it’s been endearingly, except of course when he’s being an absolute bloody idiot!” 

Freya giggled, covering her mouth in delight as she shook her head. Her eyes lit up with the mirth that came from knowing she was involved in something naughty. 

“You can’t say that, Mummy. I’ll tell uncle Basil that you called him…those words!” 

Missy chuckled, pulling one leg up to her chest in one of her contortionist-like moves and rested her chin on her knee as she watched her little girl. 

“Oh but darling, wouldn’t that mean you would have to say the naughty words and then you’d owe the swear jar two packets of haribo…” 

Freya’s nose scrunched up in delightful annoyance, glare deepening as she humoured her mother. 

“No mummy, that’s not how it works and you know it!” Freya said tiredly. “If you don’t stop, I’m going to tell auntie River.” 

“Ooh Aunite River, you’re pulling out the big guns now,” Missy replied. Unzipping her purse, she pulled out two pound coins and made a show of slotting them into the swear jar. “There you go, we’re even now little Missy.” 

Freya watched closely, scrutinising every move that Missy made- she had been short changed more than once by her mother’s tricks. Eventually, she nodded her head approvingly. Missy laughed at her daughter, raising her eyebrows when she finally received her approval. 

“Right, now my debts have been paid, I need your help,” Missy said as she tapped the tops of her legs as an invitation to her daughter. Freya responded dutifully, crawling into her mother’s lap. 

“What do you want?” Freya asked. “I thought that you weren’t working today, mummy…” 

“It’s for my women’s group, sweetheart, it’s not work.” 

Missy explained as she kissed the top of Freya’s head and smoothed her dark hair back. The women’s group had been set up after a suggestion from her therapist about forming a support network; after a year out of the psychiatric hospital, Missy had been doing better and was getting her life back on track. One issue she found, however, was finding people that understood what she had experienced. Sure, River and Basil had provided unwavering support but that didn’t mean they understood everything that had happened. Instead, Missy had turned to the internet, finding solace in the forums on mental health and domestic abuse. In one of her weekly sessions, Missy had found herself wishing out loud that her online friends had been local. To her surprise, the young therapist had suggested making a local support group herself. After all, if you couldn’t find what you want, you should make it yourself. One Tuesday night after her yoga class, Missy had put up several posters with her email address in the church hall. The church hall played host to several mother and baby groups as well as free counselling sessions, it seemed like the perfect place to advertise her project. The inaugural meeting had taken place just before Christmas with eight women-all from different walks of life- descending on to Missy’s tiny flat. They met fortnightly for a formal meeting, but often Missy would find herself meeting up with the women in between that. It quickly became apparent that her flat was too small to host the group on a regular basis and as off the next meeting- that was set to take place on Wednesday- the meeting would be held at Basil and River’s house. Not that they knew that yet. 

“Your Women’s Group? Can I come along this time…I’m nearly a woman!” Freya asked, fidgeting in Missy’s lap. 

“No darling,” Missy said softly. “This group isn’t for you. Violet’s coming though and she’ll be bringing Freddie. Maybe you would like to play with him? He likes it when you show him your big girl I Pad games.” 

Freya paused thoughtfully before nodding. She adored playing with the smaller children who came along to the group with their mothers; she was even willing to share her most treasured toys with the children she lovingly labelled the babies. 

“And it’s going to be at Uncle Basil’s this time?” Freya asked, head tilted to one side. 

“Yes,” Missy said, turning her attention back to the laptop. “Well, it will be as soon as I can send these confirmation emails out…” 

Freya giggled, moving Missy’s hands out of the way and taking over control of the laptop.  
“No one uses internet explorer, mummy,” Freya said slowly, as though she was talking to somebody very stupid. “It’s rubbish and crashes all the time. You need to use chrome.”

Clicking on the chrome logo, Freya hummed in triumph as the browser opened and she brought up Missy’s email and opened up a blank email box. 

“There you go. Send the email and then we can go and play!” 

Missy chuckled, shaking her head at the ease with which her daughter managed to do everything; Freya had achieved what she’d been trying to do all morning in a matter of seconds. Taking a sip of her now cold tea, Missy’s nimble fingers ran across the keyboard with a skill she had practiced years ago. Re-reading the email twice and double checking all the details were correct, she was finally happy to send it. A heavy wind had picked up outside, blowing the early blossoms from the trees and mixing them together with the drizzle of rain that had been coming and going all day. The wind echoed through the house with an eerie whistle as it rattled the letter box and caused doors down the hallway to slam. At the disturbance, Freya moved closer to Missy and reached her hand up to play the ends of her hair. It was something Freya had done since she was a very small baby and Missy was nearly certain her actions weren’t conscious ones. Instead of embarrassing her daughter- who was very found of reminding her that she wasn’t a baby anymore- Missy said nothing and wrapped her arm slightly tighter around Freya as she rested her chin atop her head. 

“All done sweetheart,” Missy sighed and closed the email, returning to the welcome page that was working its way through a repetitive news cycle. “What do you fancy for tea? I was thinking of ordering something from Luigi’s…” 

“February heatwave gives way to heavy wind and rain as Storm Freya batters UK,” Freya read slowly. “Hey, that’s my name!” 

Momentarily confused, Missy turned her attention back to the computer screen and took in the stock image of a large wave crashing against a sea wall at some random location in country. Laughing, she ran a hand through Freya’s hair and clicked on the link to open the news story; reading through it to see exactly how bad this winter’s named storm was going to be. 

“So it is,” Missy said. “Well, I suppose it makes sense. If I was going to name a storm after anyone, I’d name it after you.” 

Freya giggled, delighted at seeing her name in the news. The distraction lasted all of two minutes before Freya’s mind wandered back to the prospect of her favourite spaghetti dish from Luigi’s.  
“Did you say could get a take away from Luigi’s?” Freya asked eagerly. “That’s way better than your cooking…”

“Charming!” Missy scoffed in mock offence. “Come on, you get the menu up and I’ll call uncle Basil and Auntie River to see if they’re free.” 

XXXXXXXX  
By 8.30pm, the wind had picked up and the rain was at a torrential level. In Missy’s tiny lounge, plates and discarded take away boxes littered the coffee table as the three friends sat around in animated discussion. Freya- whose bedtime was fast approaching- was snuggled happily between Missy and River. Resting her head in Missy’s lap, she tried to keep up with the adults’ conversation. There were a lot of strange words like Article 50, Irish Border and No Deal, being thrown around and Freya couldn’t quite understand why they all kept repeating March 29th- why was that day so important? It wasn’t any of their birthdays…Giving up trying to keep up with the conversation, Freya shuffled her feet in River’s lap and anxiously looked out of the window. The rain was heavier now- this must be what the Storm that carried her name was doing. A strong gust of wind blew against the window and made the whole room feel like it was shaking. Freya must have jumped because she felt one soothing hand stroke her hair and another gently squeeze her foot. 

“Enough with Brexit,” River said firmly, smiling down at Freya as she gently squeezed her foot. “It’s no fun for Freya. I’m sure she’s sick to death of all these silly adults and their silly conversations.” 

“All three of you are very silly,” Freya said sagely as she sat up and reached her fruit shoot.

Missy took the chance to reach for the opened bottle of merlot, offering it around to Basil and River who both gratefully accepted the top up. 

“Well, darling, I was thinking more of the politicians that we see constantly sparring on the news…”

River began to correct Freya but was interrupted by the little girl sitting up in an excited flurry of activity. 

“I saw on the news on mummy’s laptop that there’s going to be a storm called Freya.”

“Oh yes,” Basil laughed. “Is that the long-awaited sequel to a Fish Called Wanda?”

“What?” Freya asked in confusion. “No, it’s the storm that’s going to happen this week. Its named after me!”

“Named after you? Missy…Have you been telling Freya the storm is named after her?” Basil asked.

“Well, are you about to tell her that it isn’t named after her?” Missy asked, taking a sip of wine and raising a challenging eyebrow at Basil. 

Basil raised his hands in the air defensively and shook his head. “Absolutely not, I do think its time for anyone under the age of ten to make their way to bed though…” 

Missy and River nodded in agreement, the former taking a final gulp of wine before standing up and holding her hand out to Freya. 

“Come on, sweetheart, say goodnight to auntie River and uncle Basil.” 

XXXXXXXX

9pm came and went with no sign of Missy returning from putting Freya to bed. Basil shot River a knowing glance- this wasn’t the first time this had happened and both were certain Missy had fallen to sleep with Freya, as was often the case on nights like this. 

“Shall we get going?” Basil suggested, already writing a note to Missy to explain where they had gone in the unlikely event she did wake up. 

“Yeah, I think so.”

XXXXXXXX

Several hours later and a heavy gust of wind rattled through the house and woke Freya. The young girl was delighted to find her mother still in her bed, it was reassuring especially on a stormy night. 

“Mummy,” Freya whispered. “Are you awake?”

“Mhmm,” Missy asked sleepily. “What’s wrong?”

“The storm is really scary.”

“It’s only a storm, sweetheart, you’re safe.”

Freya snuggled closer to Missy, resting her head under Missy’s chin and closing her eyes. 

“I’m safe?”

“Always, my Storm Freya.”


End file.
